


4103qCK

by 2olluxCapt0r



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2olluxCapt0r/pseuds/2olluxCapt0r
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2019 in post-apocalyptic California. Children are running away from their warm homes to make a free life for themselves in the zones. Running straight into danger. They want their freedom, and aren't afraid to fight for it. In this Killjoy fanfiction, five teenagers are trying to make a life and a name for themselves in a subdivision of Zone Three.</p>
<p>NOTE- OTHER CHARACTERS MAY BE ADDED OR TAKEN AWAY AT ANY TIME.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moikay](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Moikay), [NepAnnaTheFabulousKitty](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=NepAnnaTheFabulousKitty).



> This fanfiction was inspired by the band My Chemical Romance's last album, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys. The characters in this story are from my imagination. This is an introduction of the Killjoys that will be the main characters in the story. I would like to thank my friends Moikay and NepAnnaTheFabulousKitty for giving me some pretty insane ideas. (The ideas will come in later chapters.) Enjoy! ^_^

4103qCK  
"Look alive, sunshine.  
I see you're not dead... Yet,"  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------  
AN INTRODUCTION- PART 1:  
Home Quack and a Killjoy Named Neon...  
\----------------------------------------------------------------  
The outpost, if a bit small, accommodated nine Killjoys at any given time, and contained a lounge, which doubled as the room for the injured, (And, might I add, was in constant use,) a rather large room in which the group slept, and a small, somewhat obsolete research lab.

The base was hidden underneath the ground in a zone called, '4103qCK'. Jokingly named, 'home quack' or 'mother duck'. It was shared by five Killjoys, two females, three males, who were well-known for their abilities to hack the crap out of BLI vending-machines. Which meant that most of the actual money they made was from selling the stolen ray guns to other Killjoys.

Their fearless leader, decked head-to-toe in various shades of grey and yellow, was known simply as Neon Atrocity. Neon hated BLI with a burning passion and was the head of every operation. She was raised in an industrial city and grew up around crime. That meant that she knew how to handle it- and commit it.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN INTRODUCTION- PART 2:  
Princess Suicide...  
\---------------------------------------------------------  
Next in line for the road to hell was StarLite Suicide. The only other female in the group, though she wasn't the frilly princess you saw on Disney before BLI started airing nothing but The Adventures of MouseKat. No, she was so much more. Ray gun royalty. Queen of the trigger. She made her way through life by entering sharp-shooting contests and holding up BLI lower-ranks. In addition to her cleverness and uncanny ability to shoot on mark everytime, StarLite Suicide could get away with anything. 

But out of all of the crimes to commit in her free time, vandalism was her favorite. Whether it was blacking out street signs in the middle of the night, spray-painting graphic images on BLI buildings and cars, or playing a game of 'who can break the most windows' in the city, (Neon holds the record of 293.) she loved it all.

And apparently, BLI loved her too. So much that a cartoon villain was made in the image of the things she'd done. The character was named '0097', a series of numbers, that, when decoded, meant 'danger'. (Actually, most Killjoys were used as inspiration for BLI products. The entire area tuned into cartoons and news programs that depicted the freedom fighters as villains who abducted children and slaughtered innocent families, daily.) She was proud of this.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN INTRODUCTION- PART 3:  
The Abandoned Engineer of No Name...  
\----------------------------------------------------------------  
We'll learn more of Star's 'life in the fast lane' later. Now, I shall tell you about the most resourceful of the bunch- Pyro Delirium. He was actually quite the charmer, though his personality was a bit... Explosive at times. (Pun intended.)

His past was unknown. Unlike the others who knew their birth names, Pyro was oblivious to the fact that he had ever even had a name. Or parents, for that matter. Neon once had some theories on Pyro's past, and, after a long discussion, it was simply decided that he was abandoned, and no one was to look into it again. What they did know was that he was a damn good engineer, and kept everything at home base in working order.

He was certainly the most inventive of the Killjoys, too. Once, he built a ray gun from nothing but the scraps and wires of a BLI patrol drone, and later that day, saved everyone's lives by defusing an explosive that had been thrown into the base.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN INTRODUCTION- PART 4:  
Stealth Bombers and Punk Rock Machinery...  
\---------------------------------------------------------  
The explosive wasn't thrown by an agent, or a teenaged rebel who happened upon the entrance to the base. No, it was thrown by Alkaline Revolver, who had a tendency to 'accidentally detonate' explosives indoors.

Revolver was a punk rock machine. He was a musician, though his music was the clinking of bloody knives against the metal exterior of a patrol drone. The satisfying static that comes before a vending-machine is successfully hacked.

He was every if, and, or but you could possibly have in an argument. He could win any debate, find the tiniest loopholes in contracts, and knew exactly how to turn your words against you before the bet was even made. Alkaline was a clever, deceitful, manipulative snake. And, much like StarLite Suicide's crime-sprees, he was never stopped or discovered. 

Now don't get me wrong. The Killjoys were on the good side. They wanted creative freedom, no curfew, and cafes that weren't guarded by agents and didn't have a gun safe fully stocked in the back room. But if they really wanted to, they could take control of the largest branch of BLI agents in the entire state, assassinate the president, and establish themselves as official rulers of the organization and still be back home in time for brunch.

The only crimes they committed were against Better Living Industries, and didn't involve assassinating any presidents.  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN INTRODUCTION- PART 5:  
Cockroaches, Among Other Things...  
\---------------------------------------------------------  
The final Killjoy went by the name of Nitro Kid. Nitro had an affinity for survival, due to living on the streets for two years. He read books on how to start fires, how to create instant shelter, and other basic survival skills, like which wild plants were edible, and which... Weren't so edible. He also went on small camping trips to test his skills, and constantly practiced throwing knives and starting small fires to practice what he had learned so far. After he spent a month in Zone Two for fun, and to improve his shelter-building skills Neon said, 'I swear, when hell freezes over, the only things you'll find on this planet are cockroaches, and Nitro in his 30s'. No one doubted her, and nothing else was said.

As a child, Nitro was given to an orphanage because his parents could no longer support him. There, he spent most of his time observing the social groups around him. The girls giggled and chattered, and sometimes got into heated arguments with one another. While the boys fought to prove who was the strongest. Violence and hatred, love and friendship. All were observed. He sat to the side and only spoke when spoken to. He was lonely. He often convinced himself that he was happy this way, holding in his opinions and watching life, rather than living it. 

But really, all he wanted was to be the boy covered in bruises from fist-fights. He wanted to chase the girls, and laugh as they screamed and ran away from fear of catching 'boy germs'. Even if he had planned on exploring the world around him some day, he never got the chance. Eventually, the orphanage ran out of money and had to have all of the children adopted. Every child was. Except for one. And so, every night for two harsh years, Nitro Kid, only at the age of seven when he was abandoned, scavenged for food and searched for a dry place to sleep. 

On his ninth birthday, (Because there were no birth records of Nitro, the group officially called the day he was found his birthday) Alkaline Revolver, only 12 then, stumbled upon the park bench Nitro had slept under the night before. The two went on adventures, and they became best friends. Inseparable. Like brothers. Nothing changed when they met the other Killjoys, and nothing would ever change. They were a team. They fought beside each other, like soldiers of one heart.


	2. What's  Wrong  With  Being... Different?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damn. The dreams were back... Like she didn't revisit that night enough during the DAY. Oh well, atleast she has her charming friends, right? Wait... Where the hell did Pyro get another bomb?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first OFFICIAL chapter of 4103qCK. It took me a while to write it, because I had no clue where it was going. And that's why writing this fanfiction is so great. Because, like you, I have no idea where this will take us. So it's fun to discover the group's next adventure. I hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> IMPORTANT NOTE- Neon was 16 on the night she left. At the end of this chapter, she is 17 because it's been a year since that night.

4103qCK  
"Look alive, sunshine.  
I see you're not dead... Yet,"  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Chapter One:  
What's Wrong With Being... Different?  
\---------------------------------------------------------  
Her mother was the warden, her room was the cell. Together, mother and daughter had played this deadly game many times- too many. This would be the last. The rules of the game were simple- don't back down, don't show submission. The weakest link of the chain breaks, and the whole chain falls apart. The idea was to not be that link.

"But I didn't DO anything," A younger, much more innocent Neon protested.

"I can stand raising a spoiled brat. I deal with your attitude, your mood swings, and your slipping grades. But I will NOT raise a REBEL." 

To be truthful, Neon really hadn't done anything. Yet she still stood in front of her mother, tears slowly collecting, ready to make themselves known. But that was a weakness. So she bit them back, staring up at the woman who had supposedly given birth to her and loved her.

"This... Filth... What do you even call this?" The permanent marker written on the top of the CD was still legible, though it had been broken into four pieces no more than thirty minutes before.

"It's called MUSIC, Mom. You should actually try to listen to it," She was begging for death now. She didn't care. Numbness quickly replaced the deep sadness and panic that had taken residence in her heart.

That was really all it took. Her mother began throwing insults out casually, as if asking how her day at school was- which she never did.

"Worthless! Look at yourself! What purpose do you serve? You are nothing but an example. I'm trying to ensure that your future isn't a living HELL, and this is how you repay me?" Neon, not willing to give in, attempted to stand, but was struck down. A punch had been thrown that night. It had been thrown by the one person any child thinks they are safe with- their mother. 

Neon quickly fell back, crawling away from the woman. It was no use. She was struck again. Whether her 'mom' was blinded by rage and hatred, or alcohol, was the question that flashed across her mind like the displays in shops she would visit with her mother when she was younger. 

Finally, the blows stopped. Neon, now curled into the fetal position, lay next to her bed, sobbing quietly. Minutes of silence followed. The mother was debating whether or not to hit Neon again, or to allow her to cower in fear. The decision turned out to be an odd mixture of the two.

The cowering girl finally dared to look into the eyes of her previously 'loving' and 'understanding' mother. But that woman was from a long time ago, Neon realized, before the death. Maybe when her father was still around, Neon continued the thought from her position on the ground, her mother might have picked her up and held onto her for dear life, whispering words of love and comfort, but he wasn't, and so she didn't hold her.

The beating had two effects on the young girl. One, her face, usually pale but happy, was now bruised, tears forging new paths to escape the wreckage of a beautiful girl who had simply fallen. The second, she would never trust her family members, or herself, again.

"I will schedule an appointment with your doctor tomorrow. When asked what happened, you are to say that you fell from the stairs. Understood?" She spoke as if she were speaking to an insect she had just studied under a microscope. Her words did not quite reach Neon, though. The lack of a response made the situation worse.

Blinded by rage, the single parent lashed out at her only child, pulling her to her feet by her beautiful hair that reached down in sleek strands to the very center of her back. Neon's scream of pain echoed around the room, which suddenly became very large and empty, destroying any significant thought of escape or happiness that entered her mind.

"I asked you a question." That day, Neon saw the brightest flames, burning in her mother's eyes. After seeing the feeble nod, her mother left the room, but before slamming the plain door, spat, "You are the biggest mistake I have ever made. But you will be the last mistake."

The exact second the door slammed, Neon fell to her knees, allowing the last tears to drip away, before springing into action, grabbing a bag filled with things she needed to take with her. Money, in fact, all of her savings, two hundred dollars, give or take a few quarters, was the first to be tucked into the back-pack. Among the other items were two bottles of fruit punch she had stashed away, a very important photograph of her father, a small survival kit she received for a birthday she could no longer remember, and some bits and pieces of clothing. 

Finally, grabbing her bass guitar, and amp, she wrote a note to her family... A suicide note. When she left without a trace, her mother would eventually die someday, believing that her daughter had walked many blocks away from the house, and had jumped in front of a speeding bus or car, and was now with her father. 

After hiding the bruises with makeup, she cracked open the only window her room had, which conveniently looked out onto a dark alley, and took one final look around the room. In one night, it had gone from a place of refuge, to a hellish prison for the damned. She smiled to herself so that she wouldn't cry, and jumped out of the window. After, of course, giving the direction in which her beloved mother's bedroom was the 'middle-fingered thumbs up'.   
________________________________________________________________________  
Suddenly, something awoke Neon. She refused to revisit the rest of that night, even if it was just in a dream that she would have to see it. Besides, nothing much happened. She wandered off into the zones, one year and seven days before the danger arrived. Before the zones were territory of Better Living Industries, and before you had to shoot to survive. After entering 4103qCK, she collapsed, but her head was not met with regular dust that covered the ground loosely. Instead, it was met with cold metal. Luckily she had immediately put her hands in front of her to break the fall. Otherwise, she would have been knocked unconscious, and picked up by the midnight patrols and returned to her home- if you could call it that- that wasn't an option.

She then discovered the entrance and stumbled in, falling asleep on the floor. The next morning, she used dull scissors from the survival kit, and, with the aid of a knife, cut her hair so that it only came down to her shoulders, and hung limply around her face. She liked it that way. It all somehow worked. 

Those moments, and every other moment after that, up until the moment she was currently living in, were registered in her memory, and certain moments played at different times of the day, registering like clockwork.

"Are you going to get your ass motivated, or do I have to do your job for you?" StarLite Suicide, second in command, stood above Neon, who was still not quite in tune with the way the Earth was rotating quite yet, stumbled out of bed and instantly fell to the ground.

Now, MOST people would help them up, or at least react. But StarLite was NOT most people, and so she reacted the way StarLite Suicide would react, by poking Neon in the side with the toe of her boot, and saying, "You, stop flirting with the floor and make breakfast. I'm fuckin' hungry, and you're playing Sleeping Beauty." 

Before walking off, she added, "Oh, and Alkaline dipped your toothbrush in gasoline. Thought you might wanna know..." She said more, but after yawning groggily at the end of that sentence, she started mumbling, and her words were incomprehensible. 

After arguing with her legs, which suddenly refused to support her, she slowly made her way to the kitchen, where multiple things were happening.

First of all, Pyro was fiddling with a strange machine, trying to stop a timer of some sort. Secondly, StarLite was arguing with Alkaline about who was a better shot, and, though he didn't know it, StarLite was winning, and possibly had already won. Lastly, Nitro Kid was running around the small room, disrupting the others. Neon whistled, a silence fell upon the area. The only sounds that remained were the ticking noises coming from that machine, and Nitro Kid, who was still running around.

"NITRO! If you distract Pyro from defusing that thing, you'd better turn yourself in to the agency, because what they'll do to you will be less painful than what I'll do. Now sit down, for fucks sake." Nitro obeyed, sitting down on the floor in that exact spot he had previously been standing in. Neon turned to Pyro.

"No bombs at the table. "

"But I'm so close to defus-"

"No. I said no bombs at the table. You remember what happened last time?"

"At least we got to renovate..." Pyro muttered bitterly, defusing the bomb in a matter of seconds. He set it to the side as Alkaline, StarLite (Who was looking very pleased, having finally convinced Alkaline that she had won the argument.), and Nitro came to sit at the table.

"So, team... I've been thinking." Neon began, but was cut off.

"Well that's dangerous." It was Alkaline, looking for another argument. He wanted to start a win streak, since his last had been obliterated by StarLite and her stupid perfect aim and technique with a gun.

"Shut up, Alk. Hear me out. I have a plan..." She smirked, twisting her words with every breath. After all, Neon was an enigma wrapped in riddles, and tied up in questions.

End of Ch. 1


End file.
